


All the Devils are Here

by koalaboy



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Lucifer is a good dad, Multi, Other, sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-18 03:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalaboy/pseuds/koalaboy
Summary: Crowley rather likes people, it's a major failing in a demon. And, as best as he tries to deny it, Lucifer is beginning to rather like them, too. Nothing quite like a family reunion to bring out the primal fear in you, eh?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Texeoghea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Texeoghea/gifts).



For months now, something had been tugging at Crowley’s wings to fly, twisting his will and nagging his mind to spread his wings and travel. Crowley preferred driving these days - it took considerably less effort and neither parking, gas, nor speed limits were issues for him. It was the small miracles like that which Hell never bothered to keep track of, but lately Crowley had begun to feel as if Hell weren’t keeping track of anything. He liked to believe he had something like free will and this little itch to migrate was proving him so very wrong. He parked the Bentley in his designated parking space under his apartment complex; the parking space itself appeared much like his rent - all of a sudden and without warning, but always there when you needed it. Where he was going, he doubted he’d need it. With one last breath of the fog-filled early morning air, Crowley spread his impeccably preened wings and launched into the sky.

Flying was relatively risk-free if you knew which warm currents to follow and where you were going. Things such as air resistance and gravitational pull didn’t affect those of angel stock unless they wanted them to for their own purposes. The sky was clear, which annoyed Crowley to no end. The fear and foreboding presence which was latching itself onto his gut would have been far more justified if there were a thunderstorm about.

Crowley landed in the middle of a busy Los Angeles street frequented by nightclub-goers without being noticed by a single pair of eyes. He tucked his wings into his very Being, pulling them in like a security blanket against the new atmosphere. It was a sharp contrast to his favoured duck-pond in London. The street stunk of petrol, cigarettes, sex, and vomit induced by too much alcohol. Somewhere a priest was yelling about how the Devil walked amongst them in homosexuals. Hate-preachers were something that he and Aziraphale debated about. If you spewed hatred in the name of God, were you on the side of Heaven or Hell? Eventually, they had both come to the same conclusion - that there was a third side. There had always been a third side and it was uglier than anything Hell or Heaven could ever think up: the side of Humanity. The lights of the nightclub strip draw him inexplicably towards a white building which towered above the others in size (both physical and metaphysical). Bright neon red letters declared the building to be _LUX_. The line outside of the club stretched far out of Crowley’s sight and he couldn’t be bothered to have a proper look to see the end of it. Darn, it looked exclusive, too, by the amount of security, he noted. Still, something inside of him murmurs ' _go inside'_ and then when Crowley ignored it, it began to bang pots and pans together and yell.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Crowley muttered to himself. His hiss became more pronounced as his form shifted, his Being condensing itself to accommodate to the smaller number of atoms available in his Serpent form. He waited with all the patience of someone with a chronic anxiety disorder for the door to _LUX_ to open. The next lot of guests made their way inside and Crowley darted in along with them, using the dark and the flashing lights of the club to disguise his transformation back into his more human-friendly state. He does not rid himself of his sunglasses. He could see just fine in any light with them on, and people stared less when he wore them unnecessarily than if he went around with golden, vertically slitted pupils.

As far as Crowley could tell, the club was unextraordinary in that it resembled every other high-end nightclub in LA. However, the demonic presence within it was unmistakable. It made the demon’s body tense. Generally, he didn't get along well with anyone else from Down Below. Crowley walked up to the second level of the establishment to get away from the large crowd of sweaty, grinding people and exotic dancers. He leaned his elbows on the railing and watched them from above, scanning the crowd for the Prince or Duke of Hell he was sure had crawled their way up to tempt a few souls. As far as Crowley was concerned, drunk humans thought up enough atrocities to commit, no need to add to it.

A figure stood near the sleek, black grand piano which was central to all the other furniture in the club. He raised a hand and the music lowered as if on command to his very will. He sat on the equally sleek and black piano stool and cracked his knuckles before resting the tips of his fingers on the keys. With a sharp inhale of breath, the figure began to play. The people around him settled, crowding onto seats or standing to watch in awe. Crowley watched too, but more out of curiosity than the kind of hypnotic affect the piano player had on humans. The figure turned and the lights, which had become much more soft since he’d taken his seat, illuminated his face as he looked intensely and precisely up at Crowley. If the strikingly good looking features hadn’t been enough, the blonde hair and pink scar which ran almost completely from one side of his face to the other were. Crowley looked back at Lucifer with all the confidence and guilt of a teenager who had promised to meet his parents at church on Sunday and then ran away for twenty years only to run into them again while out shopping. Crowley nervously flicked his forked, serpentine tongue out and could taste his own fear in the air. Satisfied with the reaction, Lucifer turned back to his piano and continued to play, the smirk of thoroughly spooking one of his demons never leaving his face.

“Fuck,” Crowley hissed.

The last twelve years or so were going to take, and pardon his French, a _Hell_ of a lot of explaining.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer pulls one jackass of a joke on Crowley.

_ LUX  _ closed its doors at 1am and up until that point Crowley had waited in the corner of the second story under the supervision of Mazikeen like a child trapped in a playpen. He and Mazikeen had never had the opportunity to talk, but Crowley gathered from the way she stared at him with the look of a lioness waiting to get her share of the carcass, that she would _not_ be one to chat with over tea. In fact, as far as he could tell, no demon liked to sit and chat over tea. Hence, why Crowley had turned to his angel for that. 

Crowley wanted to reach out to the last couple as they made their way out of the nightclub, to tell them not to leave because if they did, there was no telling what might happen. He heard Lucifer give a cheerful ‘come again’ to the guests in that tone of his that suggested you would come again and had no say in the matter. Lucifer froze the second the doors closed behind the two and, turning on his heel, proceeded into the centre of the room to look directly up at Crowley as he had before. 

Crowley swallowed hard, his hands behind his back like an old butler waiting for his master to give orders.

“Come,” Lucifer said. He extended a hand which was meant to be inviting but really wasn’t and gestured to the staircase which led down to him.

Crowley felt like a little boat, tugged along by a much larger force and pushed about by the waves directly into the mouth of the Kraken (which was real, might he add). He gripped to the railing of the staircase for dear life; the intense sweat lingered on his hands and made an awful squeak against the metal of the railing. He cringed, despite the squeak perfectly capturing his emotional state. 

He reached the bottom of the stairs. Mazikeen gave him a smirk and turned to take the lift up to what Crowley assumed was Lucifer’s private apartment. Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked agonisingly slowly away from the pair of them. Once the doors to the lift had closed, Lucifer finally raised his gaze from his glass of whiskey which always seemed to be ready for him to Crowley.

“Well?”

Crowley almost swallowed his own tongue out of fright. He stumbled over his words, his mind pulling up a complete blank.

“I-I--”

“Kneel,” Lucifer said, so fast that Crowley’s anxiety-ridden brain barely picked up on it.

“Wha--?”

“Kneel!” Lucifer commanded and with his thunderous tone, great Hell-fire burned from under his skin. His true form broke through the outside mirage of humanity - powerful, indescribable horror filled the room as Lucifer stretched himself outwards and upwards, consuming what was left of fresh air and turning it into sulfur. 

Crowley fell to his knees in both terror and awe, his wings sprang out, tucking themselves subserviently behind his back. He kept his gaze to the floor, his breathing erratic and his heart pounding in his chest and ears.

“I-I’m sorry!” He cried, cowering from the punishment he knew he would endure.

Lucifer stepped towards him, “Father may have created you, but from your Fall, it was I who pieced you back together, I who gave you my Light so that you may heal, I who gave you purpose and form. You  _ will _ bow to me as your new Father, your Lord, your Master. You are of Morningstar Light, do you understand, Serpent?”

He took in a gasp of air, “Y-yes, Lord,” Crowley stammered. In all honesty, he was barely keeping himself from crying.

Ever so tenderly, Lucifer outstretched his fingers and lifted Crowley’s chin up to look at him, “Got you.”

Crowley blinked and he knew Lucifer saw it despite his sunglasses, “You…?”

“I.  _ Got. _ You,” Lucifer repeated, a smile beaming from his face.

Crowley laughed despite himself and his current position on the floor begging for his life, “My Lord?”

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” he insisted, “And there’s no need for those silly sunglasses, either. You musn’t hide what you are from the world, Crowley.”

Crowley blinked again.

“Well, c’mon. Stand, stand. Have a drink!”

Crowley stood, “Is this some kind of test?”

Lucifer frowned in confusion, “No, I don’t think so. That’s really a question for good ol’ Dad though, isn’t it?”

Crowley placed his sunglasses tentatively on the bar and took the drink offered to him by Lucifer. He flicked his tongue out to be sure before taking a sip - no Holy Water. That was a good sign, at least.

“There, now I can see you. Show your eyes off, Crowley, I did give them to you as a gift, after all!” Lucifer insisted, charm and actual - wait, was that kindness? Hospitality? - coming off of him in waves.

Crowley nodded. He was still completely unsure of this new Lucifer, but he seemed a lot more approachable on Earth than he ever was in Hell.

“Really liked what you did with the whole stopping the Apocalypse and everything, by the way,” Lucifer said, “ _ Super _ bad idea, that was.”

“Yeah. Uh, yes, Lord.”

Lucifer gave him another beaming smile. It reminded Crowley of the old Lucifer, the one who shone so brightly with their Father’s grace that angels blindly followed him to their Fall. 

“The truth is, Crowley, I rather like the Earth. Don’t you?”

Crowley downed the drink of whiskey, “I do. I really, really do.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to life in early Hell post-Fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer's Heavenly name was Samael and Crowley's was Achariel. No special meaning or anything, just made it up and it sounded cool (which is how Crowley picked his own name so I'm valid).  
> It should also be noted that demons, angels, and fallen angels do not possess sex or gender defining characteristics and simply exist as Beings. The only way we humans can comprehend their existence is to use our primitive pronouns.

In the Beginning there was God and there were His angels. He loved His angels and they loved Him. And Samael? Samael loved his brothers as much as he could with his limited understanding of love. When God made the universe, the seven days were not what we humans know as days. Each of them lasted as long as He wished for them to and so during that time the angels delighted in the new creations of Earth - the plants, the seas, the dirt beneath their forms, the winds on which they could glide. Samael was perhaps too much like his Father and watched with concern as the younger angels (barely even more than balls of holy light) flew so far they found it difficult to navigate their way home to the Silver City. So Samael expanded his Being out as far as he could, reaching out into every corner of his Father’s Creation, and he gave his siblings the stars; each of them crafted with his own Morningstar Light. A gift, he had called it, so that his siblings could always find their way home. 

Achariel hadn’t meant to Fall (Lucifer would argue, neither did he), maybe he had simply followed too blindly in the footsteps of Samael, or not turned a deaf enough ear to the rumours of a new Creation, a new being, or questioned too much. Questioning God was, as one might expect, unacceptable in the whole Grand Scheme of things.

If you were to ask Achariel now, he might say that Falling was like flying except you didn’t know where you were going to end up. In reality, to Fall was the single most painful and traumatising thing an angel could endure. Their entire being was changed; less pure, tainted, twisted. Wings broke and feathers burned fiery streaks across the sky like shooting stars. Had humans existed for more than an Earthly second or two they would have mistaken it for a meteor shower if it weren’t for the screaming. Oh, the  _ screaming _ . It deafened him for some time afterwards.

Achariel had never felt pain before and then his entire being throbbed with it. He had never felt hate, or sorrow, or grief, but the tears that poured from his weak and fading Being stained the ground with unfamiliar emotions. The darkness of what was soon to be Hell stretched out to and drove Achariel’s reeling mind into panic as it began to eat away at his wounds. He laid there and whined softly like a dying dog (had dogs existed back then). Through the haze of his tears, he could see a light - the Lightbringer himself. He knelt before him and brushed away his tears, “Oh, my son. Look at what Father has done to you.”

Achariel groaned in response, leaning up into the warmth like a sick child asking for a hug.

“I will give you a piece of my Light,” he said, “I will remake you in my image. You are no longer my Father’s son, you are mine. Cast out as I have been. You will know me as Lucifer - your Lord.”

Lucifer, as he had named himself in defiance of his Father’s will, took a piece of his own self into his hands and pushed it deep into Achariel’s Being as he had done with all of the fallen angels. Achariel let out a guttural scream of pain as the light merged with his own and feathered wings burst from his Being, fully healed. 

Lucifer stepped back, “Stand, my son.”

He did. He tucked his wings behind his back and blinked, then blinked again. Something about his vision was different, but he couldn't quite figure out what yet.

“We discard our Heavenly names here, Achariel. I will name you… Crawly," Lucifer smiled to himself in amusement. Quite literally a devilish smile.

Crawly’s wings flapped in excitement. Though he wasn’t too sure of the name, he could work with it at least. 

“Come, my son. There is much work to do.”

Time in Hell moved much faster than on Earth. Adam and Eve had barely finished naming all of the animals before Lucifer had built himself a home in Hell. Where he wept in grief at losing his family, his Father, and his Mother, great rivers of despair flowed. On the days where his anger burned brighter than his Light, did he ignite the glorious flames of torment and rage which burned eternally. And when Lucifer was lonely? He created demons. In the early days (if you could call them that), the battles for positions under Lucifer as Dukes of Hell and Leaders of the Damned were bloody and often times nearly lethal. Lucifer didn't bother to intervene except to congratulate the winner; he was too busy watching the events on Earth. Crawly stayed a safe distance from his new Lord, but was far too interested in self-preservation to become involved in any pointless rows for power. As far as he could tell, which quite honestly, wasn't much, they were all going to be stuck down here for a very long time, might as well do your best to make it pleasant. 

The other fallen angels, of whom Crawly was far too young and too antisocial to have really made an impression on in Heaven, bickered and fought beneath the rocky outcrop at which he sat. His knees were pulled into his chest and he was watching the chaos unfold beneath him with a kind of disinterested expression on his face, though it was mixed with the guilt that came along with the knowledge that he should very much be interested in what was unfolding beneath him.

"What are you doing up here, my son?" Lucifer asked. Behind him trailed a young demon with a terrifying look in her eyes. 

Crawly shrugged. It was the first shrug in all of unrecorded history.

Lucifer chuckled to himself, "There is a tree which exists on Earth. It is a very important tree as far as I can tell."

Crawly looked up to meet his Lord's eyes. Okay, he'd piqued his interest.

"I believe its fruit holds the knowledge of the difference between Good and Evil."

"I... did not know that was possible to... know...?" Crawly replied. It took an awful lot of thinking about the very concept for him to comprehend it and even then he could feel the old angelic wiring causing his thoughts to come to a standstill.

Lucifer turned to the young demon that stood obediently behind him, "Mazikeen, leave us."

She left, but not before giving Crawly a look of both jealousy and suspicion. 

Crawly stood, he felt as if he should in Lucifer's presence.

"I need you to do something for me, Crawly," he said, and his hands were gentle and tender as they shaped Crawly's Being into something long, slim, and scaly.

Crawly flicked his new tongue out and tasted the air. He slithered his way onto Lucifer's shoulders.

"What isss it, my Lord?"

Lucifer outstretched his arm and a tiny bridge between Hell and Earth opened. Just big enough for a Being of Crawly's size to fit through.  


"Get up there and make some trouble."


End file.
